


Second Chances at First Impressions

by Nighthawk88



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Set in a vaguely perfect Warehouse world, cavorite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 02:25:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3674016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nighthawk88/pseuds/Nighthawk88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark rooms, apologies, and technobabble sex. Also, Helena lost the remote.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Chances at First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Warehouse 13.

“Helena?” Myka poked her head through the doorway. Helena’s workroom was dark, except for the occasional flashing LEDs and the flickering screen on Helena’s computer. “Helena?” Myka walked into the room. She blindly felt along the wall, searching for the light switch she knew should be right about- there. She flipped the switch and found herself falling. She blinked into the darkness and tried to make sense of what happened. She hadn’t tripped on anything, but- Helena’s computer was much higher than it was before. Myka’s eyes narrowed as she looked around, her mind cataloging the small details that only led to one conclusion.

Cavorite. Again.

“Helena!” The only response was the occasional whirring of Helena’s computer. She reached into her pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She huffed angrily. It must have fallen from her pocket when she flew up to the ceiling. She tried to push off, to resist the force of the cavorite, but although it wasn’t as strong as she remembered, it was strong enough to hold her in place, suspended twelve feet above the ground.

“Helena!” She heard footsteps approaching from the distance, closing in.

“Myka? What are you doing?”

Myka peered at the figure silhouetted by the dim light from beyond the doorway. She couldn’t see the smirk, but each carefully articulated word belied Helena’s amusement. “You rewired the light switch,” she accused.

“I did.” Helena admitted easily. “I was working on some new defenses for my lab, and then it occurred to me.” Myka followed Helena’s voice as the inventor meandered through the lab. “Your last encounter with my Cavorite, impressive as it was, was not under the best of circumstances.” There was a soft scuffing sound from below, followed by the soft thump of leather and rubber against concrete. Helena’s voice was just below her now. “So, I thought about how else it could be used, and I thought back to how enticing you looked, stretched out like an angel on the ceiling of a cathedral, the very picture of a heavenly being.”

There was another thump and then Helena was pressed against her. Warm breath tickled her ear as Helena leaned in closer. “I think I found a way I could make it up to you, make the experience with Cavorite a pleasant one. Is that amenable to you, Myka?”

Myka bit her lip and nodded firmly. In the dim light, she could just barely make out Helena’s face, mere inches away from her own, studying her with that intense focus usually reserved for the inner workings of mechanical devices. And Myka felt like one of those devices under Helena’s hands. Her body felt like a series of wires and currents and switches, all of which Helena knew expertly how to direct, to connect power source to result, knew how much current was necessary to cause an overload or burnout.

And Helena flipped switches with seemingly reckless abandon.

Myka’s hands reacted, reaching for fabric, shoving it aside, and finally connecting with the skin beneath, warm and humming with an energy all its own. It fed into her touch, creating a feedback loop of intensifying sensations, connecting them, bonding them to each other.

Clothes were cast aside, to fall to the ground in an unnecessary heap. Fabric just got in the way, slowing down the current that flowed between them like resistors in a circuit.

Their hands moved in unison, over switches that amplified the current until it threatened to overload every wire in their bodies. The surge of power creating flashes of heat and white hot light that burned behind their eyelids. Breaths came rapidly in a battle, quickly lost, to dispel some of the building heat.

The burnout was glorious. Like an overworked computer, they crashed in a series of unintelligible sounds. Memory drives were wiped by the overload. Their bodies fused like a series of parts melted together, impossible to tell where one ended and the other began, and condensation gathered where cool air couldn’t reach melded joints.

Fortunately, corrosion wasn’t an issue for humans.

Myka rested her head against the crook of Helena’s neck as she caught her breath. The sounds of Helena’s own heavy breathing and the still rapid beating of her heart filled her ears, and along with the feel of Helena’s body against hers created a blanket of warmth that she could have contentedly remained in for an eternity. Though, time was always distorted around Helena.

“So,” she spoke lazily against Helena’s neck, felt the breath hitch in Helena’s chest in response. “Anti-gravity metal has it’s uses, huh?” she smirked.

The low, rough responding chuckle caused her stomach to clench and her pulse to quicken once again. “It would seem so. Some far more enjoyable than others.”

They linger there, on the ceiling of the dark workroom, for an indeterminate amount of time. There was no rush. Steve and Claudia were away on a mission, and Pete had taken advantage of the slow day to head back to the B&B earlier in the day. Artie wouldn’t venture down to Helena’s lab unless the Warehouse was about to be destroyed, so they allowed themselves to enjoy the reprieve.

It wasn’t until hours later, when they began to succumb to the stiff limbs and the cooling temperatures that they decided it was time to head back to Leena’s for the evening. “Helena?”

“Yes, darling?”

“How do we get down?”

“Simple, dear. I have a control device for the Cavorite in my- oh.”

“Oh?” That hadn’t sounded good.

“I had the control device in my pocket,” Helena answered tentatively.

And they had divested themselves of that clothing some time ago. “Oh.”

“Not to worry, darling, I’m sure I can come up with some way to get us down.”

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I think this is as close to a PWP as I can get without sounding absolutely terrible.


End file.
